


Forget Me Not

by unsealie



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Character Death, Platonic or romantic sheith, Post S2, Slight gore?, Voltron, no happy ending, post kerberos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 12:08:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13053678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsealie/pseuds/unsealie
Summary: He had long since lost track of the days they've spent in space. Time was meaningless, for them. They've spent four quintants orbiting a certain planet, they've spent thirty doboshes training; they’ve been in space, away from home, for ages. It didn’t really matter anymore, until suddenly, it did.





	Forget Me Not

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I'd like to preface this by saying thank you, and I hope you enjoy. This does include major character death, and while there were no intended ships, one can read this as they please; whether that be Sheith, Shance, Shklance, etc. 
> 
> Quintant - month  
> Movement - week  
> Dobosh - minute

In the end, no matter how much you want it, and no matter how right it may seem, some stories simply haven't got a happy ending.

*     *     *

He had long since lost track of the days they've spent in space. Time was meaningless, for them. They've spent four quintants orbiting a certain planet, they've spent thirty doboshes training; they’ve been in space, away from home, for ages. It didn’t really matter anymore, how long everything took or what time they went to sleep. They didn’t even have night and day cycles, not anymore, not like they had had on Earth. Everyone knew it was time to sleep when Coran dimmed the castle lights, and time to wake up when alarms rang out through the empty castle halls. He had forgotten the names of planets they had visited, had forgotten this battle and that. Everything had eventually become a blur, a swirl of memories in his mind that couldn’t be distinguished from one another.

There had always been nights that he had spent lying awake, restlessness making every bone in his body want to _get out_ , eyes wide open and yet unseeing. Every day had been one that withered away to their never ending war, and every spare moment had been spent getting ready for the next attack, making plans for the next heist. The small moments of peace had become few and far in between, rarer and rarer the longer their fight went on. Those nights and specific moments blended together, amounting to a large amount of _hurt_ . Of pain so vivid that it scarred his skin, of so many feelings that he was overrun with the want, the blatant _need_ to get away from everything.

Although some things may be forgotten, others he simply could never forget. He remembered how everyone had slowly deteriorated, the wear of the war visible on everyone; Lance’s eyes had dimmed, skin paling ever so slightly because of the lack of proper sunlight. Hunk’s hands growing more and more worn and calloused as he continued to repair the castle, mending every break and bug. Pidge’s mind, which slowly grew more desperate as each day passed, her want and need for her family nearly overwhelming her. Shiro in general, who had gotten better and then progressively worse as they stayed in the castle. Now, with the nightmares and PTSD, it seemed as though Shiro never slept, bags growing under his eyes but a smile staying on his face. He could remember the days, way before Kerberos, when Shiro slept normally and attacked his friends with hugs and friendly contact, could remember those days like they had been yesterday. And no matter how hard he prayed to any diety out there, those days would never come back, would never be their tomorrow.

Through it all, he remembered the small details that mattered so little to everyone else, but could have meant the world to him, had he let them. He remembered the faint freckles that dusted Lance’s cheeks, painting his skin like the night sky. He could recall Hunk’s contagious laugh, ringing throughout the metal walls of their common room. Pidge’s bright smile when Lance swept her off her feet, swinging her around like a small child. The way the skin around Shiro’s eyes would crinkle up when he smiled; laughter lines, the older boy had called them, but he thought differently, because Shiro didn’t laugh that much anymore. He vividly remembered the way Allura’s hands had remained clasped in front of her as she watched the paladins mess around, even when they could all tell she wanted to join in the banter, wanted to play fight and be rough. He remembered how happy Coran had looked when Lance accidentally called him tío, how Lance’s cheeks had coloured a deep red, not nearly as visible as it would have been, had his skin been paler. Remembered how the words had resounded through his body for _days_ after hearing them: “He’s alive. Takashi Shirogane is alive.”

  
The words were horrifyingly short lived. Shiro hadn’t even been back for more than a movement- seven fucking _days_ , and he was gone again. _Gone like the wind,_ he thought, _gone, gone, gone, gone, gone!_ Their mission had gone horribly wrong, everything falling apart before the real fight could even get started. He couldn't forget the screams he heard as Black fell from the sky, landing on a nearby planet. Couldn’t tear the noises and sights from his brain as he climbed into Black, finding Shiro on the floor, bleeding profusely as he half carried, half dragged Shiro out of his lion. It was ingrained into his brain, into his very being; the broken body seeping blood, the wheezing breaths rattling a war torn boy, laying on the ground and dying. He couldn’t forget those grey eyes, losing their fire and passion, losing their want and their need. The apologies had fallen from his lips like honey, tears welling up in his eyes from anger, fear, and sadness.

“Allura!” He had practically screamed, desperate for someone to answer him. “Guys- help! Someone, Shiro, he’s- he’s injured, I don’t know how to help.” His voice cracked with raw emotion, tears stinging his eyes and the back of his throat, finally welling up and over, rolling down his cheeks, a sob racking his thin frame. He could have never forgotten the way Shiro’s grip slowly slackened around his wrist, the way his voice held a faint laugh, even now, or how his voice cracked and wavered, a few quiet words that cut through the screaming in his head. “I love you,” Shiro had whispered, drawing another sob from him, who was now hunched over the Black Paladin’s dying form.  
Shiro was dead by the time someone came to help. He had the older boy cradled in his arms, armor slicked over with blood, ruby red against a stark white. The crying had stopped a while ago, the tears drying on his face, arms wrapped around the mere shell of a boy who had always been his rock, who had always been there for him, even when no one else had been. Lance had arrived first, looking at the scene with an open mouth, helmet already tucked under his arm. “He- Shiro, he’s…” The Blue Paladin had then trailed off, falling to his knees beside the smaller boy, offering him support and comfort. He only got a nod of a head in confirmation, when he asked if Shiro was actually gone. Seven days was all they had, and now Takashi Shirogane was dead.

*     *     *

Everyone had arrived soon after, the fight dissipating into a mere skirmish. No one took the news well. Allura had managed to keep a level head for the most part- her only sign of emotion being the tears that welled up in her eyes, but they never spilled. _Ever the princess,_ he thought bitterly, _so perfect, even when he’s dead._ Hunk was sobbing softly, watching from afar as he held Shiro, Pidge standing beside him and doing the same, but with far less tears. No one dared talk to him, his shoulders still shaking and eyes bloodshot from crying and screaming, breathing uneven and coming in short pants. Shiro was still held close to him, grip long ago falling slack, skin going cold. But it was still Shiro in his arms- no one else looked like that, no one else wore those colours, had those calming grey eyes.

He had dealt with enough loss in his life to know that he would have to get up, would have to keep going, even if it hurt. Every goddamn moment from now on would hurt, with such a big part of his life suddenly ripped away. But he would hit play, because that’s what he always did; if you’re in hell and can’t continue, you’ll never get out. Hit play and fucking _move_ , he told himself, because that corpse in your arms won’t magically get up.

His words were a faint whisper as he spoke, voice weak and cracking; “I love you, too, Takashi. I always did.” Slowly, he stood up, Shiro lifeless in his arms. He didn’t look back as he carried the boy to his lion, as he powered her up and flew back to the castle. It felt strange, not having the constant chatter of his friends and comrades in his helmet, but he didn’t know if he could stomach their voices. And while the silence wasn’t kind, it was all he had.

As he flew, his mind brought back every moment they had spent together. The good and the bad, the sweet and the sour. He remembered when he had first seen Shiro, back at the Garrison, and his eyes almost popped out of his head when Shiro looked at him, too. He remembered seeing Shiro awake and alive for the first time after his disastrous mission and Kerberos, remembered hugging him and holding him close and swearing that if he ever disappeared like that again, Shiro would never see daylight again. He remembered being tackled to the ground when Shiro hugged him, remembered smiling so widely his cheeks would genuinely hurt. He remembered how tears had burned his eyes when Shiro was captured _again_ , how much it had hurt, knowing the older boy had been taken from him again.

Before, time had never mattered. To him, it didn’t matter how long they spent in space; it’s not like he had something to go home to. But now that Shiro was gone, every minute seemed to drag out, every training session lonely without him, every meal silent with the weight of his loss.

Keith knew he could never forget those last moments, but God did he want to.


End file.
